Meeting
by Uliczka
Summary: Natalie Stuart is an almost normal Muggle. But one day she meets Severus Snape. And this is the last day of her normal life. But she doesn't know that yet.
1. A coffee would do or The Introduction

**A coffee would do – Introduction**

            It's a white morning. Whole previous night it was snowing and now blinding whiteness is screwing eyelids, teasing eyes that are not used to this volume of light. I'm a night person (and a vampire, yes… I'd like to, sometimes). But I'm happy about that – I like snow. November was warm as for this season and I was afraid that there will be no White Christmas.

            Instantaneously I hear the Bing Crosby's song in my head. I know it by heart.

_I'm dreaming of a white Christmas  
Just like the ones I used to know  
Where the treetops glisten  
and children listen  
To hear sleigh bells in the snow._

            I like this song so much. And mornings like this, I could forget how bad this world is. And how it kicks my ass everyday.

            I like walking like this. Snow is creaking under my feet, air is cool, sun's trying to pierce through heavy, grey clouds. It's nice. Only these three colours – white, grey and black. I adore it. I adore it so much, that I doesn't notice some guy in black coat, very similar to mine, who seems to be as deep in his own thoughts as I do. So we collide.

"'xcuse me" I murmure, not even looking at him. But as soon as he catches balance, I feel his disgusted look on myself. He doesn't say anything. I ignore him. I just go my way.

            Now I see a bunch of kids making a snowman. Yeah, I did few nice snowmen with my sister and friend when we were little. I still remember wearing three different pairs of gloves and the crazy laughter, when we wanted to make some eyes, and we didn't have even a stone.

            So I walk, and I walk, and I walk. I really can't help but think how painfully beautiful this morning is. I even feel the prick of pain in my heart.

            But, to my bad luck, the kids found a better game than making a snowman. Trying to hit me with a snowball. And – damn their good aim – one of them hits me in face. My glasses fall on the ground. I shout on them, but they just seem to be more encouraged. Next snowballs hit my back, as I try to find my damn glasses – I'm really nearly blind without them and it took me a while to find ones that won't make me look like an old librarian from my school. Costed horribly, but I love them.

            And yes, I find them. I hear they crash under my shoe.

            OH, BLOODY HELL!!!

            Someone else shouts for the kids, the snowballs stop hitting me. Hm, interesting. I try to get up, but I loose my balance and fall on the snow again.

            Damn it! And such a good day it was starting to be!

            Suddenly I see a hand, obviously helping me to rise. I take it, finally stand on my own legs. Damn again, I take my beloved glasses which are now useless. Shit, shit, shit.

            I take a look at my saviour – what a surprise! It's probably the man I collided with. Probably – cause of course I don't see clearly. But from what I do see – tall, slender, black hair nearly to shoulders (oh, how I looove this kind of hair… I could fall in love just because of it), dark eyes looking straight at me. He takes my glasses without a word, murmures something like "Reparo" under his nose, touches it with a wand – where did he gat it from? I didn't notice… – and they're like new ones.

            OK, I'm impressed. He gives them back to me, I put them on my nose and now I see him perfectly. The eyes that appear to be black too, are strange. But I like them. I like to look into people's eyes. There's my observation that ordinary people fear to look straight into someone's eyes. They always turn their heads.

            I never do.

„You look like you need a drink" he jokes with a smirk. But I'm definitely not in the mood for jokes. And of course, I'm not adult to drink, though I look like one. I know I do, everyone tells me this. I can go on an adult movie to the cinema without any problem. I admit, I use it sometimes and it's helpful :-)

"I don't drink before noon" I reply quietly, trying to clean my coat from snow, but it's wet anyway and I start to feel how cold it is today.

"Then a coffee. How about that?"

            I raise my head. My, I would never say his that type. He seems to be a bit older than me – somewhere in his 30s, I'd say. And he invites me for a coffee, just like that.

            I see some sarcasm in his face.

"That would do" I say. And so we go to the nearest café.

* * *

  


            So, let's sum up everything. I'm sitting here in a café, which is rare for me, with a guy who helped me get rid of kids throwing snow at me. And who repared my glasses. And invited me for a coffee. That's rare as well.

            Mmm, good capuccino. Vanilla.

            He drinks simple black coffee with sugar. What did my mom always say about that? Men like to sweeten their life, it's only women who are capable to opt out of sugar. For men. Because they want to be slimer.

"You seem to be a little wet" he says. Duh? How come?

"Well, now that's strange" I take off my coat. It's wet indeed. I noticed an old stove in the corner. If I could hang my coat somewhere there… yes, there is a peg. It's done, I sit back next to him.

            He looks at me.

            Hm. I know I'm kind of pretty. It's not lack of modesty. I am. I like myself.

            But why does he stare?

            I'm not dressed some special way. The usual dark colours. I hate pastels – pink, mauve, blue and so on. I would never dress that. I like strong colour – black, red, dark violet. Yes. But now I'm all black. The blouse with a bit too long sleeves, trousers, boots. And definitely – it's my bad hair day. I had my hair cut lately and I'm still not used to it, so it sticks out in every direction.

"That's better" I say. He smirks. I chuckle. A simple cahin of reaction. "It's not my usual way of meeting people"

"Oh, I hope so"

"So, what do you do for life?"

"I'm a teacher"

            Ah, a teacher. I have some memories of teachers. I know a teacher who doesn't act like one. He's one of my best friends, well, he was at least. I don't know if he still feels that, but I have no reason to think he doesn't. But I haven't talk with him really for a long time. Only in the classroom.

            Ooo, don't look at me like that. He's not *that* kind of friend. Just a friend. Really. I swear.

"I really like this weather" I say again. Sometimes I like to stay silent but now I fell like I have butterflies in my stomach, which is usual if I'm in new situation. This is new. So I need to talk to hide that I'm nervous.

"Even if you're wet?"

"Well, every beauty has its cost"

            Smiles again. And there's the silence, that I'm afraid of.

"So what a girl does in a morning like this except for walking?"

            I wanna smoke. Like hell. Bad addiction, but I don't do that often. Just if I really, really need to. It helps to get rid of stress too.

            I suppose I'm kind of neurotic. Oh well. Nobody is perfect. (My name is NOBODY ^_^)

"Waits for an invitation for a coffee" 

"And what if one does not appear?"

"She goes home and contemplates the rest of the day by herself only"

            This capuccino is really good. I haven't taste a better one since… I don't even remember really.

            My stranger wears black too.

            It's damn sexy. I won't ever say that, but he's in my type, maybe except for age… even if fancying elder men is OK, I'm still a teenager. I can watch. I cannot try. But I bloody like this kind of hair and dressing. Maybe because I like to think about myself as someone with dark part of heart.

"And when the day is not so spectacular?"

            I like his tembre of voice, a thought comes to my head.

"I probably learn. Or think. Or… I don't know…"

"And thinking is about?"

"Is that curiousity or you're doing some kind of test?"

"Just curiousity, believe me"

            It's nice here. Classy. This stove in the corner, candle light, well toned colours. Music. I like it. It reminds me of a small café near my beloved school, called "The Source". Every student and former-student comes there. I've been there many times too, and many things happened there.

            Just don't think about it, I say to myself. Memory of "The Source" is unfortunately followed by the memory of my Someone Special, who turned out to be not The One. I understood that. He still didn't.

            That's why I don't come to "The Source" anymore.

            But I remember that there was a question asked. So I say "Things". I know it's not an answer, but he accepts it. Good for me. Maybe he thought that I don't want to answer. Woudn't he be right?

            I touch my neck, it hurts. I've always had some problems with my spine. Too little of practise, too much of sitting in desk or in front of the computer.

"You have some sign on your hand"

            Oh, he noticed that.

"Er… It's a way of getting rid of stress. I think it's better to write things on your hand than cut yourself or do some other harm"

"Well, there's something logical in it"

            I nod.

"And what does that one say?"

            I can't help but smile. It's a lyric from one of my favourite Robbie Williams' songs. "No regrets, they don't work". I show him. He raises his dark eyebrows.

"Original" he comments shortly.

            Is there some way for me not to blush? I know it's kind of childish, but it really helps me sometimes not to do something serious to myself…

"It helps when you're depressed" I explain.

"And were you?"

"Depressed? Well, yes. It happens"

"Why?"

"What are these questions for?" I ask again, because I'm really not used to be asked questions like this. Maybe I'm not used to this, that someone is actually interested about me.

            Oh, I must stop this pesimistic thinking. Out. Out.

"Just curiousity" he smirks again. Strange. I would swear he just smiles, but his smiles look like smirks. Maybe it's natural, don't know. "So why do you feel depressed?" he repeats. Ha, never leaves unanswered questions. Like The Little Prince.

"Well, I believe the same reasons as the majority of adolescents"

"Which are?"

"Oh I don't know, being misunderstood by everyone, feeling lonely and stupid, quarelling with parents… common problems of all teenagers"

"I would say these are not only problems of the teenagers" he says with funny mimic. I mean, it makes me smile.

"Maybe the adults are better in hiding their disappointment of this world" I reply, because I think so. I _am_ rather disappointed, but I don't regret anything. Could be better, but could be worse as well.

"Maybe. But is that good?"

"It sucks. This way or another" I say. 'Cause what's the point of pretending everything's just fine and we have no problems?

"Probably" he takes a drink of his coffee and we fell silent.

            As I said, I don't like silence very much. But it's not that quiet – still there are other people chatting and…

Listening to the music I suddenly have a vision of myself, dancing with my stranger, bodies close, feeling his warmth and feeling safe in his arms.

            I smile a little. 

            Ha! Not even in your dreams.

            Suddenly I realize that my capuccino is all drank. Pity.

"I'm Severus Snape"

            But I know, I think with a smile on my face. How could I not know that?

"And you?"

"Natalie. Natalie… Stuart"

            His cup is also empty.

            So that's the end.

            Now wasn't that an adventure?

            We take our coats (mine is still a bit wet, but a lot warmer now – it feels so good. As we walk out, I see a mistletoe over the door.

            Yeah, don't tempt me. It's not a romantic comedie movie or something. I hate romantic comedies! They always end the same!

            And so, we walk out of the café… I don't say anything about the mistletoe, why should I?… things like that happen to me…

            I feel this spicy smell of cold air. It's great. I love winter. Probably I won't say that when it will be freezing –25 degrees and I will be trying to do anything to get my hands warm and dreaming of a really friendly-looking radiator… but at the moment, I adore it. I miss the real winter in my place, where there's no snow at all by now.

            In the café it smelled very nice, cinnamon, pine, I don't know, gingerbread maybe? It's the smell of Christmas itself for me. 

            And what's the smell of winter?

"Um, then… goodbye… an thanks for the coffee, I guess"

"See you" he says and goes his way. I stand still. Cold air touches my cheeks.

            He said "see you".

* * *

  


            There's no snow in my place. It's dry and and grey.

            I must wait for my luck.

            But at least I have this image of white scenery there. It makes me feel warm inside – funny, isn't it?

            So I come back home, the last place I want to be this day. The last place I want to be at the majority of days. Home should be a shelter. Mine is a… battlefield.

* * *

  


            I have Saigon in my house.

            My room looks like a bomb exploded there.

            So it's normal :-P

            I don't have a bed even. When Mr. S. moved out, he took all his furniture, the one thing that he left was our bunk bed. I used to sleep on the top but lately I was afraid it would break. So I'm sleeping on a mattress and my back hurts horribly every mourning.

            And all the papers of mine and my sister's are messing up the floor. I really like the view as I like to call it an artistic disorder but it constantly makes my mother mumble something like "Someday I will make an order here".

            I know she won't. She wouldn't dare to touch my things. I would kill everyone who would do this. And especially my sister.

            Mmm, I feel a little dizzy. It happens often to me, I've got some heart problems. Or a neurosis. Maybe both, I don't know. I don't drink coffee too often, actually I try to avoid it. I prefer Coke. The Light one – my friend say that it tasted like a soap, but I like it horribly and I'm addicted to it. Pity it's quite unhealthy – it contains aspartam, which is an artificial sweetener said to be harmful and cancer-causing.

            Oh well. :)

            I've got to take a nice warm bath.

* * *

  


            So I sit in the blue water (added "Bath Salt BLUE LAGOON with Dead Sea Minerals" – I just like the smell and the colour…), I'm reading some book, but I'm not quite aware, what is it (wait, oh no, HOW could I possibly take THAT one?! Grochola "Serce na temblaku"?! I'm touching the bottom). OK, I don't even know what I'm reading about. All my thoughts… are about him. It's really rare for me to meet a person like him. I still keep wondering, what did he mean. And what was all that about. And eventually – why that strange look of him is still in my head.

            Sometimes I think I'm getting crazy. I look at the sign on my left arm, which he noticed – "No regrets, they don't work". I rewrite it, so it's more visible. Must remember.

            Am I? Really?

            Sometimes I see things that are not there, like some phantoms. I have strange dreams and most of it, I don't even remember. I've got terrible headaches quite regularly.

            But they may not be syndroms of insanity, aren't they?

            Therefore, once again I find myself standing in front of a bathroom mirror, with only towel wrapped around my wet body, thinking what the hell I am doing here. It's driving me mad, his empty life. That mourning only made me remember it stronger than usual.

            I want a change.

A song for today: Slade "Merry Christmas Everybody"


	2. A letter from nowhere

**A letter from nowhere**

            A dark forest at night is all black. I cannot see my legs on the ground. Leaves are falling from the trees, I hear them rustling softly under my feet.      A light figure runs among the trees. It's… a stag. Or rather a silver ghost of a stag. It runs… escapes maybe… and it's gone.            I go further. I've never been to that place, I doubt it even exists. The moon finally reveals itself from the clouds and it'a bit brighter now. Just a bit. But it doesn't change anything really.     The trees' branches remind me curved arms of a hag. It's this atmosphere here, I can almost feel the fogg of magic, or something.

            Where did that stag go? It was beautiful…

            It's strange, that despite this scary scenery, I don't feel any fear. Just the butterflies in my stomach, as if I were excited.

            And then, I see another figure. Or should I say – figures. A procession of faceless phantoms in large, ghostly-like black cloaks with hoods on their heads. They all are murmuring something unintelligable, some drills, prayers maybe. They pass me and form some kind of circle – it has empty spaces, larger and smaller. As for a missing person, or people.

            Very slowly, they raise their hands…

* * *

  


            There's no such thing as the Christmas spirit in my house. To be honest, I doubt there ever was some.

            I wake up today only to find some money next to my head on the pillow. As usual. Couldn't expect more from her.

            I wake up only to notice that there are tears in my eyes.

            I wake up and go the bathroom mirror only to find that I must have had a blood flood from my nose.

            This morning is already bad.

            And then, I hear my mom saying from the kitchen "It's snowing, girls, you know". I look through the window, is it, really? I hoped it would for so long… I was afraid there would be no snow for Christmas…

            It _is_ snowing.

            I grin. At last.

* * *

  


            Christmas melancholy is the thing I hate most about Christmas.

            But I like shopping :P

            And of course I just have to go to the nearest mall and buy presents for family and friends – I wouldn't be myself if I didn't do that. And of course, I am fully aware that I won't do that – I'm too lazy, I will forget about it and spend the money for some Cola or snacks probably.

            I think I don't like Christmas very much. It's a contrast – but Christmas should be spent with family which I haven't got, in Christmas sprit which I don't feel and and not thinking about problems which I've got too much.

            So it is.

            When I was going home from school today, I've been to some shops. I saw some noce things. I like especially a serpent-shaped candle stick. It was simply beautiful and… I _had_ to buy it.

            Funny thing that I thought that He would like it. It's so like him, I mean, this candlestick. It fits him.

            What the hell I am thinking about, I will probably never see him again! You must stop acting like a stupid teen, honestly! You're almost adult! (that's what my mom always says when she's mad at me 'cause I've done something wrong…)

            There was one thing that annerved me bery much. Christmas decoration. I hate the thing that whole Christmas advertisement campaign begins just after All Saints' Day. I saw some colourful lights and "Merry Christmas" neon then. I hate all the commercialization of Christmas – TV advertisements, neons, stupid slogans. It's not what Christmas is about. But I don't want to think about it. Yes. It's making me angry and I don't want to be angry.

            It's getting childish.

            And now I've put a candle in it, I'm sitting on the floor and reading. It's veeery unhealthy and I will go blind before I'm thirty.

            I will have new bed tomorrow. And soon it will be Christmas.

            Positive things about Christmas:

1) No school

2) Food better than usual

3) Some presents

4) A bit of rest after all those tests in school

5) Opportunity of sleeping to noon – I always do that when I have free day. Never have enough of sleep during school year

            Negative things about Christmas:

1) Sadness

2) Melancholy

3) Necessity of being in the same room with my sister – sooner or late we WILL fight

4) School meeting in a week – Aaah! My grades! They're horrible! My mom's gonna kill me!

5) Mock school test. I'm not sure about my physics abilities. I will fail it. I know that.

            The result: a tie.

            The conclusion: call off the Christmas. I don't want them like this.

* * *

  


            The snow of course melted the day after it appeared. Then it was a one-day pleasure. It only hurts more. I'm still dreaming of a white Christmas.

            I'm lying on my mattress and writing.

            I'm writning a letter. I just need to get some things out of my head. In any way.

            _My dear Stranger,_

_may I call you like that? It is nothing personal, you do not have to feel insulted. It would just seem a bit odd for me to call you by name. Or even by last name._

_            So be my Stranger, please._

_            It is already dark on the outside. I am very satisfied now that I am in warm place but still I miss this snow. A Christmas without snow is not a real Christmas. And the memory of snow when we met is only getting more painful. Have you got some remedy for that?_

_            I cannot look through the window all the time. I must do something with myself. This is the only way to stop thinking about this melancholy. If you are busy, you do not think about it. Maybe it is the only way…_

_            How do you spend your Christmas? Are you lonely? Do you stay at your school? I think so, I do not think you have some other place to go… but perhaps I am too impertinent. Forgive me that._

_            Sometimes I wish I would have something exciting in my life. It does not have to be happy, viable, just *interesting*. Exciting. Because I just want my life to be interesting, not happy-ended. Life is brutal._

_            It seems that I have become very melancholic last days. Monotony of life is killing me and my family as I watch my mother become more and more bitter. It scares me how she changes. I wish I could help her, make her happy, make her not worry about anything. I hate to say that I am completely powerless._

_            Would it be so much for a Christmas wish to have some more strength? Just to live through the rest of the days. I know nothing will happen. It is always the same._

_Wishing you a Christmas Merrier than mine_

_Natalie S._

            Sometimes I wish I could cry when I want to. But I can't. My eyes are hopelessly dry and I feel like I have something in my throat. My sister is asleep and so I try to. But I can't do that either. So I just lie and watch how the shadows dance on the ceiling.

            And I don't notice when I indeed fall into Morpheus' arms.

            I don't remember what I'm dreaming about.

* * *

  


            MY LETTER IS GONE!!!

            WHERE THE HELL IS IT?!

            I woke up this mourning and it's gone! I am perfectly sure I left it next to my pillow! It has to be somewhere here!

            Bloody hell, it must have been my damn animal, Balthasarus the Cat.* Once he teared my test which I had to give back to the teacher. Of course, he didn't believ my cat destroyed it and I got a bomb.

            I will get my revenge! But now I have to help mom cleaning, they're coming with my bed today, she already started yelling at me because I slept too long. 

            At last! No more sleeping on a mattress! No more spine aches!

"Yes mom, I'm coming!…"

* * *

  


            Natalie Stuart.

            Where did it came from? I am sure it wasn't there the last time… Such a nice paper…

            The adressee is me. It's a letter for me. Me!

            Oh, oh, I feel my heart beats too fast. I must catch a breath before it starts to hurt. I cannot take any sedative tranquillizers because they made me almost pass out in a bus when I was going to school.

            Open it. Just. Open. It. You'll see what's inside.

            _Dear Miss Stuart,_

_at first I apologize for my impertinency of taking the letter as I could not abstain. Overtaking, as I presume, your next question – yes, I have been in your house at night. I apologize for that too. You will be informed why in the next few days but it is not for me to tell you that._

_            I do not mind if you call me like that. Although it does not matter at all whatever you would call me, of course within limits of reason._

_            I do spend Christmas in Hogwarts, as usual. And yes, actually I do not have any other place to spend it nor I would like to. As for the other question, I do not feel obliged to answer that as it is generally thought to be personal._

_            May I pass a suggestion that your wish might become true sooner than you imagine? Although I seriously doubt it would become a blood-freezing adventure of your life, it will change for a while. But about this, later._

_            The power you need is inside you, you just have to discover it._

_            And be sure I will write you soon, or we will meet, not alone. You must meet someone, who is interested in you._

_Wishing you Merry Christmas too_

_Severus Snape,_

_The Potions Master_

            The most important is not to scream. Nor faint.

            I seriously love him for this letter.

A song for today: Bing Crosby "White Christmas"

* Sorry to Catty Elliott – the form is brilliant! How's Salazar the Rat going?


	3. The meeting with a Wizard

**The meeting with a Wizard**

_            Dear Stranger, _

_yet I am writing to you again. I would be very pleased if you would tell me when excatly you are going to pay a call to the modest house of Stuarts' women as I do not wish my mother to know about it and I am sure either would you._

_            The second reason I am writing this letter is that I want to thank you. You do not even know how your letter made me happy. Shocked, of course, but happy. Perhaps I do not understand many things yet and I am a bit perplexed, but I believe you will explain some things the soonest as it is possible._

_            I had a dream last night, you know? I heared that there is something about first dreams on new beds, but I do not remember what. Anyways, I dreamt about myself standing in white space. And there is a rain of old, beautiful books, red, green and very dark blue. The green ones are signed with my name on first page, the blue ones are signed with yours, I don't remember whose name is on the red ones. Paper is whirring._

_            Do you have any idea what can it mean? I have such strange dreams lately. Like the one I had the night after, when I wrote the first letter. I dreamt about some dark forest and there was a procession of ghostly-like people in long black cloaks and hoods. They were standing in a circle and saying some words that I did not understand, with hands raised. It was actually scary, but there was also some… silver stag running._

_            Please, do not laugh. It was the first time that I had such a dream._

_            I used to explain some of my friend's dreams and she used to say that I was right almost everytime. This time, I cannot say anything. Maybe you know someone who can explain this kind of dreams? I suppose that you teach something like that in your school._

_            Please, answer quickly about the date of your visit. It is important._

_Yours truly,_

_Natalie S._

*

            I'm a bit stressed again and whole my flat smells this think against moths. I cough and lie on a couch with a big box of tissues.

            I'm totally, absolutely, most definitely sick. Unfortunately. And it's Christmas Day itself! I'm sitting alone in the house, mom and sister went to aunt's for dinner, so of course, I'm in front of the computer and listening to some music.

            He didn't answer for my letter yet. It wasn't rude. But I believe he will do it. I know he will do it.

            Will he?

            Balthasarus is sort of sick too, he ate angel's hair. He hides in my bed.

            The sign on my hand disappears. But I remember.

*

            The real snowy winter came right with the beginning of New Year. Just as his answer – well, at least I noticed it just before I went to my almost best friend's on the New Year's Eve' movie maraton.

            It was very short. He said he'll come next Wednesday afternoon.

            I'm waiting. It's the day after tomorrow. Soon.

            And the dreams keep coming to my head, even if I don't want them.

*

            Today I feel like a demon's child. Maybe it sounds funny, but I cannot name it in any other way. I feel it in my blood – its pressure is slightly higher than usual. Thoughts are running differently through my head.

            I'm nervous. It's even quite funny, because I am perfectly sure, that someday, maybe even tomorrow or tonight I will be laughing from it, which is very typical for me. But now nothing can make me laugh sincerely.

            Snow keeps falling and melting, falling and melting. 

            A bell on the door.

            They've come. Oh my God. Oh my God! One last look to the mirror in the hall – do I look fine? Is my hair alright? Well, it's acceptable. I did my best to look good. I open the front door.

"Good afternoon, Natalie" Snape says. And on his right… nomen-omen, Hogwarts' Headmaster Albus Dumbledore himself, with his long white beard and hair and half-moon glasses on the most hooked nose I have ever seen. They both look… I don't know, funny, in long robes that I don't see on people usually, Snape of course his usual black, Dumbledore dark violet. I would think I like this kind of colour very much, if I hadn't been so nervous.

            Merlin, help me.

            When did I start cursing like this?

"Um, good afternoon. Come in, come in. Welcome to my house, er…"

            They look around. My house is not very rich. I can't help it.

"Would you like a cup of tea?" I say quietly, guiding them on the right, to the living room, which is also my mother's bedroom. Then I run to kitchen, to make this tea and of course almost fall on the bend. Yes. Tea is good. Very good.

            I act like an idiot. Hit me.

            When the tea is hot ready and smelling good (they're English, I bet they won't like it!), I enter the room. Snape and Dumbledore are sitting on the couch, like they would never leave nor do anything alese and chatting about something, probably some semi-philosophical or moral problem. What else such wizards would talk about?

"…No Severus, you see, when we think about it the way as it was written in 'One thousand and…'…is the tea ready, Natalie?" Dumbledore says, most calmly and very warmly. Ah, what a man. I feel a bit better now "Don't be so nervous, one could think you are going to faint, my dear"

            Please, tell me if I'm dreaming. Do something. Do something.

            I sit next to them. Gee. Did I eat something alive today if I feel something moving inside my stomach?

            Balthasarus the Cat walks to the room. Yeah, he was the only person that was missing here! Actually it's a bit odd that he didn't hide in the bathroom or my room when two strangers – and particularly men, came here. He does that almost every time.

            To my astonishment, Balthasarus starts to miaou and murmure and jumps on the couch just to place himself right on Severus Snape's knees.

"What a nice… cat…" he says very slowly, while Dumbledore already scratches him behind ears. I wonder if cats do have something with magic. I've read something about it once. They see things.

            Merlin, have I said something about helping me? Just forget it…

            But even Snape is not as angry (?) as I would expect it. Actually he seems to be not angry at all, only confused. Dumbledore doesn't care at all. That's funny.

            But after the tea and a little nervous converstion, they start to talk…

*

"Well, does it mean you're going to to visit me at days?" I asked Professor, which was a while after headmaster Dumbledore left my humble house and deported himself somewhere. Snape stayed, he said he wants to talk with me for a while. I wonder what about. Should I be scared?

"Occasionaly. You must note your dreams. And I will watch you in general"

"Isn't it a bit spying?"

"A bit. But we must know if someone would discover you… gift" (Ha! He still doesn't want to admit that it _is _some kind of gift… I'm just not sure if good or bad)

"And think why does a Muggle have a gift of Dreaming?"

"That one too, Natalie"

            I like when he calls me by name. Once I didn't like it, I wanted to be named Julia or Dominique, but now I think it's quite nice.

"Until your next visit, then"

"Indeed. Goodnight, miss Stuart"

"Goodnight…"

            And he's gone.

            Now they are Wizards. With a big W. I'm afraid of them, both of them. Not that they will harm me, but they will definitely change many things in my poor life.

            And I wanted a change? Yes. I did. I must remember that some of my wishes tend to become true in very funny ways.

A song for today: Red Hot Chili Peppers "Fortune Faded"

(A/N: OK, I hadn't got and idea for good song for this chapter)


	4. Play

**Play**

            I lost weight again. It's a reaction for stress, I think. An effect of sitting in front of a computer too much, maybe. Or I just forget about eating. That one too.

            My Stranger came to me couple of times. These were short visits. I don't have any dreams lately, only this one about silver stag and dark forest repeats.

            Oh, and there's a new sign on my hand. "All these moments will be lost in time, like tears in the rain".*

            Ah, a prick of pain. I've got neurosis. At least my mom says it's neurosis. Sometime I feel pain in chest. Near the heart. Sometimes on the other side. Once I took some pills, but they almost made me faint.

            And suddenly, there's a thought. It appears all of a sudden in my head. I feel it. I feel it's presence. I cannot catch it yet, it still goes round between cells, creeps slowly, grows up to come out of the concealement… I reach hands to catch it, embrace it…

            …and it's gone. It escaped again. 

            Once more I feel prick of pain. Sometime I wonder if I will die young. People like me don't live very long. I wonder I someone will notce, when I'm gone. Well, I know someone will, my mom for an example. But someone, you know, "important".

            I still feel it. It's in me. Am I very sick, or is it really just a neurosis?

            I really should go sleep.

*

            I'm almost awake from a strange dream (must note it, must note it… I can hear the voice in my head) when I turn in the other side of my new bed. I love it. My own bed. Yeah. Oh yeah. Cool.

            By the corner of the eye I notice something lying next to my head on the pillow, but I wanna sleep some more… just a couple of minutes…

            What?! Something lying next to my pillow?

            My eyes open suddenly and I see a piece of paper. Old paper. Very nice paper, I like that kind. And it has a sign. It says… oh my God, it says "Wake up".

            His writing. Sharp, black atrament.

            Damn him. How… oh, right. He _can_ do things like that.

            But how dared he?

            Wait, there something on the other side of this paper…

_Natalie,_

_how about going on a walk? Maybe you have some new dreams to tell me about? I'm waiting at 3 p.m. behind your block. Please, be so kind and show up punctually, as I cannot wait too long. I believe you know why. Thanks in advance._

_Regards,_

_Severus Snape_

_The Potions Master_

            Gotta get up and welcome the morning!

*

            Five to three. I'm waiting. 

            Hmm, it's so quiet. And windy. It's always windy here. I know it's connected with the architecture of blocks, but only generally. Anyway, I like it. My Zodiak sign is Aquarius, wind is my element. Well, actuallny I was born on the edge of two signs – Aquarius and Pisces, so it's wind and water. Funny thing, because these two signs are completely different from each other. I checked it many times. And people often say, that I have features of both signs. Maybe I'm mutually exclusive (heh, that would explain many things).

"Were you waiting long?" I hear from behind. God, he frightened me. He walks very quietly, normally I hear people coming. Normally I can recognize them from the way they walk – I know when my mom's coming home at the moment I hear her coming out from the lift, for example.

"No, not at all" I reply.

            He guides me. I know where we are going. There's a park a couple of streets forther. I go there usually to smoke when I must think over some serious things.

"Um… will you tell me where did the idea of going for a walk came from?"

"We must talk" I hear.

"We could do this at home"

"Does that disturb you?"

            Ah, one word too much again.

"No, not at all. It's even nice weather" I say. I do _not_ know what to say.

"I wanted you to go for a walk for two reasons" he says "One: we must talk in private and I would like no one unnecessary to eavesdrop it. Two: you need to have some fresh air. You don't go outside except going to school"

"How do you know that?" I stop, partially because I think it's none of his buisness and partially because he's right. I don't.

"I know" he just replies. Yeah, right!

"And _who_ might have hear us?"

"You don't need to know that"

"Oh, I think you could tell me if it's…"

"The less you know the safer you are" he cuts in.

"Am I in some danger?" my eyes widen.

"Not yet" he smirks.

"Pity" I smirk too "My life is so boring"

            He doesn't answer for this.

"So, you _do_ want to talke with me 'in private'. What is so importans then, that it cannot be discussed at home?"

"You're sarcastic"

"I lear from the best" I smile.

"Did you have a new dream?" he asks.

"Yes. There was… a rat. Big, grey rat with one hand silver. It as fighting a black dog. Or maybe it was wolf, I don't know, it was dark. And there was this silver sta, it was fighting a giant snake"

"Nothing new, I'd say" he murmured.

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing. Tell me more"

"There was this strange sound… something between hiss and squeak, constantly. And then there was dazzling green light, everything went black. Then red. And…"

"Yes?"

"I saw myself. And my hands. In blood. I was looking at myself in this dream, you know, and I was… I don't know, too calm. My hands were… in blood"

"Wounded?"

"I don't know, maybe. Horrifying thought, anyway, to have hands hurt. I wouldn't stand it"

"Why?" he's suddenly interested.

"I play piano"

"You've never told"

"You've never asked. Besides, I thought…"

"What?"

            I grin and look at him.

"Nothing".

            There's not much people I the park when we walk there. After few circles around I ask:

"Is that everyghing you wanted to tell me?"

"No. I've got… I want to ask you something"

            Oh my.

"Hit me"

"Don't talk to strangers"

            I start to laugh, a bit nervously.

"I would take that serious, miss Stuart" he says, suddenly coldly.

"It's Natalie Haven't you told me some time ago that I'm safe?"

"I cannot protect you all the time"

"You protect me?! From what?"

"The less you know the safer you are"

            I don't _like_ it. Stop playing with me.

"Curiousity killed the cat" I mutter.**

"Certainly. So, promise me not to…"

"Yes, yes, I promise. What else?"

"Try not to write to me anything now. I will leave you notes"

"Why? Does somebody reads them?"

Can you stop asking questions? I cannot answer. Maybe you will know soon, but let us hipe you won't have to"

"You're mysterious"

"I have to, if I want to keep you in safe"

            I will not ask again who is up to catch me, but apparently, there _is_ someone!

"Yes. Good. And one thing more. Don't tell anyone, just anyone about your dreams"

"OK"

            Hmm, he's a bit suprpised that I agreed so quickly. I grin again.

"OK" he repeats thoughtfully.

"Now, will we go back to my home?"

"We may"

            Ah, such a kindness!

"Thank you"

            I will beat you, I think to myself. I will discover this someday. I'm not a bloody little girl, who cannot be informed 'bout anything!

            Then, Professor cleans his throat.

"So, about your dream…"

*

"How do you know when I'm alone or that nobody will see your letters and read them?" I ask him when we are at home. I thought about it lately and I find it quite interesting…

"Believe me, I have my ways"

"Oh, I know that perfectly. But how?"

            He smirks.

"Magic"

            I want to ask again, but he cuts in.

"You said that you play" he says pointing at my piano. I did. I've got eight years of music school finished, but last year I dropped it. Don't have time for everything.

"Sort of"

"Play something, then"

            Yeah, right! What else would you like?

"A tea, if you don't mind"

"What?!"

            He looks a bit stunned.

„Oh, that… I can… read some thoughts. Yes, you may say that. Some. Not every. It's just that one was very clear"

"Don't do that, please. It's a bit… uncomfortable" I say going to kitchen. So that's it. But how? I know wizards can do many things but that? Damn it, now I'll have to watch what even I'm thinking when with him!

*

"Play something for me" he repeats, when I come back with the tea.

"I forgot how to play"

"I don't believe you"

"I did"

"Don't make me please. I don't do that"

            I smile. What would I play for him? Something I like, I think…

            I sit on the piano chair and open the piano. Fingers did not forget the keyboard. So I start to play, my beloved one, Chopin. Prelude in e-minor.

            Merlin, how it sounds! This instrument is completely upset. But I play, on and on and on. I adore this piece. I learned it by myself when I was ten, and repeated it through the years. I couldn't just forget it.

            It ends very low.

            I smile, turning back and looking at Professor.

"Play, come on"

"More?"

"Yes"

            What would I play now? I don't know, I don't know… wait a minute, do I still have these jazz notes? My Gershwin? I would play that song…

            I search the books on the piano. It's such a mess. But yes, I find it. Old jazzy song. "The man I love". I start to play, but I will _not_ sing. Oh no.

            He accepts it. I feel his look on my back.

            And so we spend the evening this way, I'm playing and he's listening…

            What is this game you are playing with me, eh?

A song for today: The Cardigans "My Favourite Game" (ah, first mystery)

* Obvious quote from "Bladerunner"

** Catty Elliott again. She uses that one very often… couldn't resist! J

(A/N: Guys, are you even reading this? I would like to see some reviews…)


	5. Window

**Window**

****

            I would like the spring to come. It's still cold, there isn't much of snow, and these remains of it are almost grey, not white, as the snow should be.

            Anyway, it was an amazing winter… meeting Him, and all those meetings. Although I've gone nowhere on the winter holiday, it was great. Strange, but wonderful. I feel as though I would live in a dream. A good dream.

            There's still that fear that all dreams must end someday.

            I don't want to think about it. My friends always say that I can't stop thinking of problems for myself. They're right in some way, but I'm just constructed this way, cannot change much. :)

            Something tells me to look out of the window. It just appears in my thoughts in some moment. I'm sitting on my bed, reading something, calm jazz comes to my ears. It's cool. Peaceful afternoon, first from a long time.

            The warrant becomes more and more clear. I'm perplexed myself, but curious. I walk up to the window then, deflect the curtain.

            It's Him. He standing down there, in front of my appartment block.

            A black mark on this snow getting grayer everyday. He looks somewhere on the side, probably at this group of people quarreling about some trifle.

            I take a deep breath.

            After that I get myself together as quickly as it's possible, I shout to mom that I'm going out and the door close behind me. The lift slides down. I nod to the receptionist and I'm gone.

"Is it safe?" I ask him.

"What?"

"Meeting outside, where we can be seen?"

"Does that disturb you?"

"It's you who should be bothered"

"Yes. And?"

            I smile. Witty, that is. 

"Did you find yout why do I have those dreams?"

"Not yet. But we're trying"

            I look at the watch.

"Gee, I didn't know it's that late. I shouldn't be outiside"

"What is it?" he says perplexed.

"I have a test tomorrow. I must study, you know. I have some problems with my grades at school"

"Which subject?" he asks, apparently not-caring.

"Chemistry"

"Show me"

            Have I mentioned being more and more surprised? I really should stop this, I may have a heart attack some day… We go to the stairs (I wonder what will the receptionist think, but Snape seems not to be concerned with it. Probably he will hex him, at least that's what I think…) and wait for my mom to go out. Then we go to the flat.

"You're going to help me?" I still don't quite believe in it.

"I'm going to see if I can explain you something"

"That's helping"

"Call it whatever you like" he shruggs and takes my chemistry manual.

            Must I say that the next day I wrote the test perfectly?

            But coming back to that afternoon, after killing me with chemistry (which is definitely one of my less favourite subjects, but not the least, which is physics) we start one of these chats of ours, that usually are started with some question of mine. Today it is: ****

"What is magic?"

"Theoretically or philosophically? I believe that your writers and poets have write something about that topic…"

"Just answer, don't mock. What is magic for you?"

            He thinks for a moment. I love to watch him, when he's really wondering about something. He looks so serious then.

"… A mystery. And a source. An ability of perceiving things"

            I don't think so really…

"Why do you look so surprised? It's all, really. It means that everything is possible. Some people are made to see things other way than… other people"

"Muggles"

"Muggles" he repeats "But there are also people like you. You could see things for the first time as they really are"

"Like?"

"That maybe I am a crow sitting here on the chair and talking with you, but I managed to persuade to you that I am Severus Snape, the Potions Master in Hogwarts and that's how everyone sees me"

            I like what he says. But still, I think he mocks me.

"Or maybe I'm not even here… You see, the most important is that word 'maybe'. That's how magic works. Besides, there are many kinds of what you call 'magic'."

"And that would be?"

"Wand magic. Potions. Arithmancy. Divination. It's all magic. But the real magic is inside of the sorcerer. And you have magic inside too"

"Me?" I ask, surprised "I'm just a Muggle"

"Even Muggles have a little bit of magic in themselves, it's only a matter of their memory about that. And you, women, have a very special kind of magic you do. Look at your flat – you have red ribbons"

            I laugh. Yeah, I have red ribbons on every door in the flat. And inside beds. And my mother has one always in her pocket.  Mom and I did that when Mr. S. was scaring us that he'd come back. He didn't, of course. But there was that fear. So we made that ribbons, so they would keep him on the distance.

***

            Looking through the window as he walks out of my flat hets pretty annoying. I would like him to stay…

            At that moment he turned his head up. Gosh, I hope he didn't hear _that_! It's getting really weird… He's gone. I can think whatever I want.

            So, it's getting weird. I would really like to know what it's all about. Why does he have to "protect me". I have stupid scenarios in my head, on eis worse than another… but all mean nothing but an adventure. That I dream of.

            Should I worry? Or is it just this part of me that my friends always tell me about? I always worry too much.

***

            Today I got my chemistry test. Full punctation.

            What a beautiful day…

A song for today: Queen "It's a beautiful day"

(A/N: Simple, but I like it. More of mystery later. Review, please!)


	6. Coma

Coma

****

            Cellos. Their voices reach my eras as I've set the volume on maximum. Yes. That's the Music. Perfect for me for today. Like a storm on autumn.

            I'm on the balcony, sitting, smoking and depreesing myself. It's too warm. It should be raining. There shouldn't be such weather when I'm depressed.

            And everything was to be so good… I almost thought it's over at last, I'm free of Mr. S – nevermore. He *always* will find a way to humiliate me and mom.

            I've got enough of trials eve if I haven't been on any of them. It wasn't necessary as I'm still underage. So what, that he wants to prove *I*'m not his daughter.

            I've got enough of my own personal problems. Caused by the way by *him* as well, at least I can suppose so. I'm afraid of getting into deep boy/girl relationships. I am afraid of attaching to someone – and I attach very quickly. I hardly imagine my life without mom, without my friends, withour Stranger even. I wish to play something, like the other day. But now my fingers no longer know the notes. I forgot how to play. I can only listen.

            I'm sleepy. Can't get enough sleep lately.

            Oh, my cigarette burned out. Oh well. Another one.

            Don't look at me like that. I'm 16. I'm neurotic. I look for any ways of getting rid of stress. Intensive chwing a gum also helps.

            God, I really wish I could cry. I feel horrible. The whole world is fallign on my head lately. School, learning, creating, nightmares, trials. Stress, stress, stress. No wonder why I'm taking pills to get some serious sleep. I shouldn't do that – I don't dream when on pills. He would have something to say about this, but I really need to have *some* sleep before I faint someday or die of exhaustion.

            Oh, and my sister, of course, is another of my problems. His blood. It was a long time ago, when I said that we two are just the types that cannot possibly live with each other without fighting ans quarrel. The scar on my thigh reminds me about that. And that almost invisible one on cheek as well.

            My cat is mad at me for some reason that is not known to me. I never understood this animal.

            My mom shouts at me, which is her way of throwing out the stress and frustration. Pity. It touches me. She forgets. I don't.

            We have no money again.

            I've got so much to lears that I don't know where to start. Probably, I won't do anything at all. As usual.

            I've got bloody nightmares about mirrors.

            Nobody loves me.

            That should be enough reasons to be depressed, isn't it?

*Puff*

"You weren't supposed to do that. Chizpurfles"

            He looks quite astinished as I spoke to him with the cigarette still in my mouth.

"What? Never seen a 16-year old smoking, depressed girl?"

            Silence. My, if I weren't so busy with my own thoughts, I would find it funny that he sits with me on the floor. So… not like him. No tea. No talk.

"No new dreams" I say looking to the sky. Damn beautiful weather, it's realy nice. Perfect for a walk.

            Ha, I just catch myself on thinking I would like to talk with someone about these problems of mine. But certinly He would not be the person. He wouldn't like to listen. But it's noce that he IS here, anyway. At least I have that…

"I shall go" he says. And gets up. I knew it. I don't.

"You shouldn't smoke" he says, but I've got the feeling it's just formal.

"There are worse kinds of death"

"This one is not pleasant too"

"I know" I look at him. He does the Apparating spell. And a second before he's gone, I finish my sentence.

"My father died of lungs cancer"

            Nothing.

            Ah, the music of wild cellos!…

            It lullabies me, as I grow sleepier. I will awake when all my wound are healed. I will awake at the sunset. To live at night, as I dream.

            But, of course, mom won't let me. I have to go to scholl on the morning. Normaln people sleep at night.

            Did I ever say I'm normal?

***

            I want to yell at him, but that would be unfair. I've got no reason to do this. I'm just sitting on the couch and he's sitting next to the table. Nothing more. Well, he probably stares. I can feel it.

            He didn't say a word since he apparated. 

            Soon I will have chizpurfles in the flat, of this magic. I would tell him not to do that, but firstly, he probably won't listen anyway, secodnly, I don't want to tlak. At all. Haven't spoken a word a word too.

            We just sit in silence.

            Finally, after half of an hour or some, he speaks, like he would be just out of his thoughts.

"You… always call your father 'Mr. S' or 'my so-called father'. Why?"

"Because he's not my father"

            Again, a silence falls upon us. Now I must explain this. I would rather not. Damn it.

"My real father died fifteen years ago of lungs cancer. He only saw me once. He didn't know he had a daughter until mom told him. They were friends once, before she got married with Mr. S. They broke up, didn't see each other for couple of years. My mom was never happy in marriage, he wasn't faithful. He had other women three months after their wedding. No wonder she was sad. And when my sisted was born, she appeared to be just the same stubborn and heartless as him. Mom wanted to have another child but not with him. And then this man, my father, came again. He was married too and his wife left him for another, got pregnant with him. They, I mean mom and this man who I don't know, started meeting, then there was one sad evening, some alcohol, you know the rest. They haven't meet since. Only after I was born she met him an told him, then he came to our house, this house, when Mr. S. was in work. He told her he had cancer, he had a surgery, maybe he would live. And she never saw him again, just about eight years later there was meeting of her old class from studies, where they met. Her friends told her he died one year later. That's all"

            I sit sadly looking at the carpet. I really don't like to talk about it.

"How did you find out?"

"A cliché. I have different blood group than my mother. I noticed it when I was twelve. I asked, she answered. She told me the rest when I got fifteen, that was our deal."

"How much do you know about your real father?"

"Not much. Why do you ask?"

            He looks at me with a mixture of amazement and… I don't know. Like he would pity me. I need no pity.

            Oh yeah, he must've heard that. I forgot to watch my thoughts.

"I searched the genealogy of your mother and your… well, so-called father, as you call him. They're Muggles all the way. But your real father, it could've been him. That would be the reason you have these dreams"

"But my mom…"

"Your mom is what we call Muggle witch. She feels some things that not all Muggles feel, she does some pagan spells but there is no real magic in it, only strong faith. You, on the other things, also feel some things, but these dreams are sign of this 'real' magic"

"So my father could have been a wizard?!"

"I don't think so. A wizard wouldn't die of cancer. Probably he was a Squib, maybe son of some half-blood, to little wizard's blood to be a wizard. I have to check it. Do you know his name?"

"Yes" I say and give it.

            My father… a wizard? Yeah, and what else? Merlin himself?

"Don't even think this name so carefree. It is an important person for every wizard" he says and there something odd on his face. Could it be a smile? Or another smirk?

            I can feel the emotions boiling in me. I want to cry, but don't know how, as usual.

"Will you leave me now?"

"I should check it the soonest as possible. The sooner, the better"

"And I presume that there's no point in asking you why you must hurry so much?"

"Of course there is. But you won't be answered anyway" he smirks.

"Then go now. I think I need to be alone and think about something"

            He stands up and walks to me.

"I think so too. Keep yourself together, Natalie" he touches my arm in comfort. Such a automatical gesture, but he doesn't even know how I appreciate it.

            He smiles. Or maybe it was a delusion.

            But I know what will be next. He will go and I will sit and look at the walls. I will think very intensively about it, for about hundredth time, and there will be no conclusion. As usual. These emotions come out of me and almost I fall in a coma, or some other strange sleep. Without feelings. Without thoughts. It's easier that way.

"See you" he says and apparates.

            Damn it, again. One more time and I will really shout at him. Though as far as I know myself, I won't dare to.

            Bloody chizpurfles.

A song for today: (well, it's not a song, but… had to give it) Apocalyptica "Hall of the Mountain King"

Review!!! Please! I need it to live! I want to know if it's good and should I continue it!

Oh, and I'm looking for a beta-reader, because English is my foreign language and it would be good if someone would check these fics before I put them online. Anyone interested?


End file.
